


Waters

by sciencefictioness



Series: Legacy [17]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Past Genji/Hanzo, Past Relationship(s), Sibling Incest, Skippable, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 09:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: “The other night at the bar was the first time you’ve seen us, but it’s not the first time we’ve seen you.”Genji looked at Gabriel, suspicion evident in his gaze, glancing from Gabriel’s face to their entwined hands and back again.There were a lot of different places they could have noticed Genji without Genji seeing them, but none of it felt like their scene.  Dance clubs.  Street corners and grocery stores and gas stations on the shitty side of town.  Rooftops at night, the Shambali temple; Genji had a hard time picturing Jack or Gabriel anywhere in his day to day life.The thought would sit uneasy if Genji let himself dwell on it— that they seemed above him, somehow.  Better than all the things he had become.  Stolen biotics and a mattress on the floor of his bedroom and a restless itch for more in his blood he was trying desperately not to scratch.  Not to swallow, or smoke away, or snort.Genji Shimada, heir to the most influential yakuza clan in all of Japan, beneath the likes of two retired old soldiers.The irony wasn’t lost on him.  Genji fought down a manic laugh.





	Waters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roughlycut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roughlycut/gifts).

> This story does not stand alone, and is best read after chapter four of ['Fray'.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370666/chapters/33176700)
> 
> Putting this as a separate piece from Fray because I want to keep the main narrative strictly genyatta/genreaper76, and this bit is entirely skippable if the the referenced past shimadacest is not your thing. It won't show up in Fray itself, and it won't show up in Legacy, which will remain strictly mchanzo. I understand some ships aren't for everyone, and that's fine, that's why I split things up! Choose your own adventure, so to speak, but if you don't like any particular pairing I ask you please keep any negativity to yourself.
> 
> For those of you who ARE here for this, please enjoy!

“In the interest of full disclosure, the other night at the bar was the first time you’ve seen us, but it’s not the first time we’ve seen you.”

Gabriel squeezed Genji’s hand tighter. Jack pressed down insistently on Genji’s thigh with his fingers, both of them staring. Genji looked at Gabriel, suspicion evident in his gaze, glancing from Gabriel’s face to their entwined hands and back again.

There were a lot of different places they could have noticed Genji without Genji seeing them, but none of it felt like their scene. Dance clubs. Street corners and grocery stores and gas stations on the shitty side of town. Rooftops at night, the Shambali temple; Genji had a hard time picturing Jack or Gabriel anywhere in his day to day life. 

The thought would sit uneasy if Genji let himself dwell on it— that they seemed above him, somehow. Better than all the things he had become. Stolen biotics and a mattress on the floor of his bedroom and a restless itch for  _ more  _ in his blood he was trying desperately not to scratch. Not to swallow, or smoke away, or snort.

Genji Shimada, heir to the most influential yakuza clan in all of Japan, beneath the likes of two retired old soldiers.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. Genji fought down a manic laugh.

“And you’ve seen me... where?” Genji asked, running through a hundred different places in his head, trying to figure out where they might have stumbled across each other without him remembering. There was a drawn out pause— a hesitation, like Gabriel didn’t relish answering him, and Genji sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes. “Seen me  _ where?” _

Gabriel sucked air through his teeth. Jack was tense between Gabriel’s knees.

“Hanamura,” Gabriel replied, and Genji’s brows shot up.

His lips parted, and he jerked his hand out of Gabriel’s, only just suppressing the urge to jump to his feet.

“What the  _ fuck.” _

Gabriel held both palms up in front of him, like that might placate Genji when he was an inch away from running.

“Jack and I were both in the military. I was the leader of a black-ops unit, and at one point we ran a recon operation on the Shimada clan. Thought they had ties to a terrorist agency we were chasing at the time and we got sent in to observe and report. Turned out not to be the case, but I was there, and Jack was my ranking officer. I was on the ground, he reviewed my intel. We were there to watch your father and his lieutenants, mostly, but I do remember you.” Gabriel paused again. Waited. “And your brother.” 

_ Your brother.  _ It rolled off his tongue so easy, like it was something Gabriel was allowed to say, something he was allowed to know. 

Like Hanzo wasn’t something Genji kept buried in him, locked away where no one else could see.

Adrenaline rushed through him uninvited, and for a moment he was already gone. Miles away, Midori carrying him through alleys and over fire escapes, far from anyone who knew anything about his past.

Anyone he hadn’t told himself, anyway. 

Then Genji took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists. Forced his muscles to relax, forced the restless energy to uncoil in his skin. Genji had only just settled into life here. He had a place, had a routine.

Had Zenyatta.

He was tired of running.

“When… when was this?” 

Jack and Gabriel shared a look Genji couldn’t decipher, and Gabriel shrugged one shoulder.

“Few weeks in the summer of fifty-seven. Nothing came of it. You and your brother weren’t our primary focus, and we had limited resources, so we didn’t see much of you. I wasn’t positive it was you the other day. Your name sounded familiar but it’s been a long time, I couldn’t be sure. We’re in private security, so I did some digging—”

Genji laughed, head thrown back as he rolled his eyes.

“Of  _ course  _ you did.”

Gabriel lifted his hands again, that same gesture of surrender but this time with some bite to his expression.

“Jackie wouldn’t shut up about how I seemed interested in you. And he wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t about to get tangled up in someone who was still trailing miles and miles of dangerous bullshit with them. You’re pretty, and you’re a cocky little shit that looks good on your knees, but that isn’t enough that I’m willing to risk dragging some yakuza nonsense to my doorstep. So yeah, I did some digging.”

Genji flexed his jaw, and willed Midori to be quiet, to settle. Gabriel and Jack had still invited Genji to watch their scene. Still wanted to negotiate some kind of terms with him, see where things took them. 

Still held his hand, and rubbed gentle circles against his thigh. 

They hadn’t seen much all those years ago in Japan if they were willing to touch Genji like that— let him close, leave themselves open. 

They had been soldiers. Maybe they could understand the blood Genji had on his hands, but some of the things Genji had endured were beyond understanding. The things that had been done to him.

The things he had done.

Genji thought of Hanzo, all alone across the world, left behind as Genji tried to move forward.

Abandoned like the shattered thing he was, and Genji swallowed, and ran a palm over Midori. Genji wasn’t sure if it was to soothe her or himself, but he felt them both calming, felt her easing deeper beneath his skin.

“And what did you dig up?” Genji asked, teeth grinding, heartbeat erratic. 

Jack sat back on his heels, neck popping audibly as he stretched and climbed up onto the couch on the other side of Gabriel. He turned sideways, one knee folded up underneath him. Gabriel ran his free hand through Jack’s hair, something apologetic in the gesture. 

Genji would have felt bad for ruining his afterglow if he wasn’t fighting back the edge of panic. 

“Clan seems to have written you off for the most part, from what we can tell. Your brother—”

_ “Hanzo,”  _ Genji interrupted, wrenching his eyes shut. “His name is Hanzo, you can say it.”

If they were going to sift through Genji’s past and unearth all the sorest parts, they could at least say his name. When Genji opened his eyes Jack was sharing another cautious look with Gabriel.

“Hanzo… is carrying on with business as usual, more or less,” Jack said haltingly. “Not sure what happened that made you cut and run— it’s not something we tried to figure out. None of it is any of our business really, and you don’t have to talk about any of this shit with us. We just didn’t want to get in over our heads, here.”

Genji huffed out another laugh at that. The clan had done their best to bury Genji without Hanzo’s approval, and failed. If Hanzo wanted Genji dead he’d already be in the ground. Any random clan stragglers that were sent after Genji now were no threat to him, and they certainly weren’t anything two overgrown ex-military special operations commanders couldn’t handle. It wasn’t that they might be in over their heads.

They weren’t sure Genji was worth the trouble, which was fair.

Genji wasn’t sure he was worth the trouble, either.

“We don’t have all the files from the op in Hanamura,” Jack continued with a shrug, “it was over a decade ago, but we can give you what we managed to scrounge up if you’re curious. It’s just a lot of surveillance footage of day to day clan activities, mostly your father and his advisors, but you and your- you and Hanzo do pop up occasionally. There’s some digital files with Gabriel’s debriefs. We didn’t go through any of it again. I can text you a link to it all, if you want.”

Genji shrugged. It didn’t really matter. They hadn’t seen Genji at his worst or they wouldn’t be sitting next to him, nonchalant, inviting him into their bed. He didn’t need to see any of it. 

Living through it once was bad enough.

“I was there. I don’t really need a recap.”

It sounded more bitter than he intended, tasted foul in his mouth. 

Gabriel reached over— slowly, giving Genji time to react. He just watched distrustfully as Gabriel slid his fingers over his wrist, interlacing their fingers again.

“We’d like to see where things go with you. If it’s something you’re still interested in.”

Genji looked between the two of them, glanced at his hand where Gabriel held it. Thought of how it felt going to his knees for Gabriel— doing as he was told, even without words. Thought of Jack cuffed and writhing on the floor, strong and powerful and falling apart.

Gabriel’s hands on his face,  _ you’re not ready for the things I’d do to you. _

Genji was ready. Wanted to be.

Raked his eyes over them and licked his lips. Sultry. Practiced, but no less genuine.

“I’m definitely still interested.”

-

They talked for a while— not long enough for Jack and Gabriel’s tastes, but Genji could only spend so long with them in a closed room and no promise of more sex before he got antsy. He’d been through Overwatch’s vetting process; parroting etiquette basics back at them seemed to satisfy their concerns well enough. They got his phone number, and his email address, and made tentative plans to have Genji over to their apartment early the next week for dinner.

Wine, and dine, and kink negotiation.

It sounded boring as fuck, but the food would probably be good, and if he got some rough handling from Gabriel afterwards it would be worth the effort.

Gabriel kissed his knuckles, and Jack smiled softly at him, and Genji headed out the back entrance and into the night. 

The temple was on his way home, nestled in the midst of downtown, an oasis of peace in the rush of lights and traffic. It was a simple thing to find Zenyatta there. Genji could feel him now, the way he could always feel Hanzo back home— the way he could always find him blind in the dark. Midori, reaching with all of herself, trying to pull Genji closer to what he needed.

Zenyatta was in the innermost sanctuary, sitting in front of the altar. Low to the ground, like he’d been meditating, except his orbs were spinning in the wrong patterns for that. He wasn’t meditating.

He was waiting for Genji.

“I thought I might see you tonight. Things went well, I presume?” Zenyatta said, path of his orbs widening until they were circling the whole room.

Until they were circling Genji. Genji slipped quietly across the room, and their orbits tightened as he closed the distance between them, always keeping Genji just inside. An embrace, Genji realized.

Zenyatta holding him close.

Genji went to his knees in front of him, then laid his head in Zenyatta’s lap. He took Zenyatta’s hand and eased it into his hair, and he complied, threading his fingers slowly through the messy strands.

“They did. I— I have a date, I guess? I’m supposed to go eat dinner with them next week to talk about  _ boundaries.”  _

His distaste for the idea was evident in his voice. Genji didn’t have boundaries— he could take everything they dished out, and then some. He was beginning to worry that Gabriel wouldn’t be willing to give him what he wanted, what he craved.

That he’d be so afraid to hurt Genji that it wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m glad. You deserve to be treated with care, even if you think otherwise.”

Genji closed his eyes. Reached for Zenyatta’s other hand and pulled it up to his face, relaxing as he cupped his cheek.

“I’m… I’m  _ trying,  _ alright?”

Genji laid awake at night staring at the ceiling, restless and tangled in his sheets. It was hard to sleep without anything to help him get there— some chalky pills on his tongue, a few mouthfuls of liquor. The nights dragged, and the days dragged, and Genji was vividly, painfully coherent through it all. No opiates running through his blood, no momentary agony tangled up with pleasure in the back of a club, someone’s backseat, a bathroom stall. He wasn’t addicted to any one thing, specifically.

Just desperate for something that would stop him from feeling every moment with such vicious acuity. The only solace he found was at the temple, but he was trying.

_ Fuck,  _ he was trying.

Zenyatta ran his thumb over Genji’s mouth, golden light bathing them both in waves.

“You are doing so well. I know you want sharpness from them, but let them be gentle with you, too. It would be a comfort to me to know they are giving you not only the things you want, but the things you need. If they do not want to soothe you, they do not deserve you.”

Genji didn’t answer. Didn’t know if he was capable of letting someone other than Zenyatta soothe him. Didn’t want to lie.

He pressed his mouth against Zenyatta’s palm— tentative, lingering. 

They stayed there in the quiet a long time, but when he felt himself dozing, Genji drew himself to his feet and slipped into the night again.

-

There was a notification on his phone when he finally crawled in bed. An email from someone he didn’t recognize— which wasn’t difficult when Genji’s emails were mostly from dating apps and porn sites, but this one came from a MorrisonJ2025.

Genji laughed out loud.

Jack Morrison was an actual old man.

Then he opened the email and frowned. 

_ Know you said you didn’t need it, but I wanted to send you this anyway. Link won’t expire, up to you what you want to do with it! You can delete it all from your end if you like. See you on Tuesday. _

_ -Jack _

The link was unintelligible, and took Genji to what looked like a file sharing service for a security company, ‘Morrison Security Solutions’. There were files of all different types; the thumbnails showed documents that were partially redacted, scores of still photos, a dozen or so videos. 

Something in Genji twisted at the sight of Shimada castle, cherry blossoms in bloom, clan guards standing dutifully at the gates. He’d been gone for a long time now, well over a year, but when he thought of Hanamura Genji hurt all over.

He hated that it still felt like home. Wondered if it would always be like that— yearning for something poisonous. Longing for it, like he longed for a pill on his tongue or smoke in his lungs or the vicious bite of sake.

It hurt, but it was all he’d ever known, and everything else felt hollow.

Or maybe it was only hollow without Hanzo.

Genji sniffed and shook himself. It was everything Jack and Gabriel had dug up from their operation in Hanamura. The documents all appeared to be Gabriel’s debriefs, though his name wasn’t visible anywhere in them. Genji skimmed through, barely giving the pages a glance. It was all dry and informative, laden with dates and times and the names of clan lieutenants Genji had long ago stopped thinking about. Meetings with other clans, and drug suppliers, businessmen who were in the clan’s pocket. He caught his name a few times, as well as Hanzo’s, but they only seemed to be mentioned in passing.

The images were more of the same, if harder to look at. Pictures of the castle from all angles. Entry points, weak spots in patrols, as well as a handful of locations around Hanamura that the clan used as meeting places. Then there was Sojiro; Sojiro and his second, Sojiro with local police officers. 

Sojiro and Hanzo. 

Genji and Hanzo.

There were several of the two of them together— Genji and Hanzo dressed in suits at a clan meeting, Genji and Hanzo in gis talking to the elders near the temple, Genji and Hanzo climbing into a sleek black car.

Genji and Hanzo covered in blood, masks on the bottom halves of their faces, slinking through an alley. Genji paused on the image, stomach flipping. It could have been any number of nights, any number of hits Sojiro had sent them on, except… except Hanzo had a black eye, and Genji  _ remembered  _ that night. Remembered Sojiro laying into him before they left,  _ you’ll do as I say, when I say it, without question! _

Fist in his hair, eyes flashing red,  _ do you understand me, Hanzo? _

As though Hanzo had ever been anything but stoically obedient. As though it wasn’t Genji who deserved Sojiro’s fury, instead.

Remembered what came after they’d finished the job. 

Remembered pressing Hanzo into the wall of the alley, and tugging his mask down off his face, and— 

Genji didn’t need to remember. It was there in vivid color in the next image, Genji with his mouth against Hanzo’s, Hanzo’s gory fingers in his hair. The sound Genji made was involuntary, a ragged gasp, air coming out in a rush. His heart stopped, then started back wrong, pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. Genji had the inane urge to turn his phone off, to hide it against his chest. He glanced around the room with panic surging higher in him. Like someone might see.

Like someone hadn’t already seen.

There were no more pictures from that night, despite the fact that things had gone a lot further than a few heated kisses with Hanzo pinned against filthy bricks. Genji’s fingers shook as he scrolled through the rest of the images. None of them were nearly as intimate or damning, but they hurt to look at all the same. Hanzo, young and bruised and vulnerable. The ghost of things Genji thought he’d cast aside.

The stuttering previews of the surveillance videos were made up almost entirely of Sojiro’s lieutenants, but there was one at the very end that made nausea well up in Genji’s stomach again. He tapped at it on autopilot, blinking away the sting in his eyes as the file began playing. 

The camera was stationary, mounted high on a wall outside the arcade back home. Bright neon lit up the darkness in flashes— nearby signs, the glow of the vending machines. There was no one to be seen at first, just an empty alcove and blinking LEDs, but Genji knew what was coming. It didn’t take long.

Genji and Hanzo emerged from the arcade together, Hanzo looking over his shoulder, Genji pulling him along by the hand. Then he tugged Hanzo next to vending machine and pressed him against the wall in the shadows beside it. Genji watched himself nuzzle into Hanzo’s throat, Hanzo’s eyes wrenched shut, mouth open as he grasped at Genji’s hair.

Watched himself slip his hands into Hanzo’s clothes. Listened to Hanzo protest,  _ Genji, no, not here. _

Listened to himself whine, half-drunk and handsy,  _ then where, anija? _

_ Please. _

Watched himself kiss over Hanzo’s jaw, whisper something low, and Hanzo nodded,  _ okay, okay,  _ and— 

Genji exited the video, exited the site. The panic had faded to leave Genji shivery, adrenaline leaving something lonelier behind. Want. Longing. Hanzo was on the other side of the world all alone.

Genji felt every mile between them like a blade.

He pulled up his contacts and found Gabriel. Found Jack. Sent them both a text, an accusation in his thoughts if not his words.

_ you didn’t look at all of this _

They couldn’t have seen this, and kissed Genji’s knuckles, held his hand,  _ we’d like to see where things go with you.  _ Not knowing Genji was so fucked up. So vicious.

So broken.

A response came faster than Genji expected, like they’d been waiting on Genji to say something.

_ We did. It was our job. _

Their job to invade Genji’s most private moments. To slink into the only safe place he’d ever known, Genji entirely caught entirely unaware. To take those stolen minutes that Genji had clung to, that had kept him alive, and make them something clinical; filed away to be perused by strangers thousands of miles away, weighed against the rest of the clan’s business.

Genji wanted to be angry, but it was difficult. He had enough blood on his hands.

He knew what it was like— following orders until he was barely himself anymore.

Until he was just a knife in the dark.

_ all of it? _

Genji’s lips on Hanzo’s throat, and Genji’s hands in Hanzo’s clothes, Hanzo’s skin and mouth and voice the only softness Genji had ever known. The response took longer, but Genji could see Jack typing, little dots pulsing bigger and smaller.

_ It’s not our business. Wasn’t then, isn’t now. Felt like an invasion to be watching at the time, and we didn’t enjoy digging it all up again, but we thought you should know. _

Then— 

_ It doesn’t matter to us, if it doesn’t matter to you. _

It did matter to Genji, but not in the way Jack meant. 

Hanzo always mattered.

Genji laid down in bed and curled onto his side, knees tucked into his chest and face in his palms. Breathed through the pain— the sting of an old wound that wouldn’t heal, lingering just out of his reach.

_ Alright,  _ Genji texted back eventually, unsure of what else there was to say. 

It wasn’t alright, but it was forward, and that was all he had.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Tell me nice things or come yell at me on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/scifictioness?lang=en)


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